


Maybe I'll get drunk, again.

by cringingbclarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Niall Horan - Freeform, Other, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cringingbclarry/pseuds/cringingbclarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he wanted was to feel wanted, yet he felt so alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'll get drunk, again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a one shot I wrote based off Niall. There's no couple involved in it, because I don't know if I wanna stop here or turn it into a chaptered fic. But this is a one shot about how Niall doesn't feel like he's good enough for anyone. It's kinda by 3rd person, POV.
> 
> Tumblr: cringingbclarry.tumblr.com

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed. Each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the mid afternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, and someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.  
Niall was just one of those people who couldn’t seem to fit in no matter what he did. He tried his best to be what everyone wanted, yet he never was. The boy was known as a social butterfly most of his life. You would usually see him laughing or chatting up some stranger who looked lonely. He was the person you would go to with any problem, or even when you felt sad for no reason.  
The only problem was that Niall was the complete opposite of what most people assumed he was. The kid, who could brighten up your day in an instant, couldn’t even brighten up his own.  
Life was like an ongoing nightmare for Niall. He would wake up in the morning, put on his cloths, brush his teeth, go to school and fake a smile, come home and do the same, and at the end of the day; he’d lie down and think about the time when he didn’t have to pretend that he was genuinely happy. Each day was the same. Maybe occasionally he went to a party, but he mostly just felt out of place; alone. He had so many people who cared about him, but he felt like he had no one. Even in a room of people who supposedly loved him, he felt like no one actually did.  
Evenings were always the worst for him. All the built up grief and guilt would be drained out of him with slow tears that ran down his cheeks.  
“I am not sad, I am not sad.” Niall repeated to himself numerous times. Those 3 words were like a lifeline that was keeping him from breaking. He was nowhere near the urge to commit suicide; it was nothing major like that. He was just sad.  
He did not want anybody finding out about the depressing thoughts that constantly haunted his brain throughout the day, and picked at it at night. Niall did things to make sure that no one would find out. He was there to comfort people, and make people happy. His friends shouldn’t waste their precious time on a boy who had no reason to be sad in the first place.  
But that was the problem,  
Niall was sad, and he didn’t know why.  
He didn’t know why one day he just changed from someone who actually had meaning in his smiles, but hides it from people now.  
He had it all, to be honest.  
Niall had the looks; his natural brown hair growing into his blonde hair making his style look messy, but in the most perfect manner.  
Niall had the body; he wasn’t exactly boxy, but he didn’t exactly have the most perfect body ever. His body was right in the middle between the two, making him it even better.  
Niall had the personality; the person at school that was amazing, outgoing, and all of that. No one knew about the person he was inside of his head, and he would do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.  
Lastly, Niall had the brain. He was an honor student with perfect grades and perfect attendance. What more could he ask for?  
Basically, Niall had it all. Looks, body, personality, and brain. What else was there in life to actually be proud of?  
Those four things dominated him, but he didn’t understand why no one looked at him like he looked at himself. He was the farthest away from all of those things. (In his brain at least.)  
Niall was one of those people who wore their heart on their sleeve, who kept it out for everyone to see, for everyone to touch, for everyone to break.  
The one thing that Niall was good at doing was drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Consuming it to the point where he was one bottle away from jumping out a window just for the hell of it. Alcohol was like an escape. Being intoxicated was just a really good way for him to quickly forget everything that haunted him, even if it was just for a night. He drank to rid the thoughts of loneliness.  
All he ever really wanted was for someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright one day. He just wanted someone to hold his hand and kiss him and tell him that they loved him no matter what he did or what he looked like. All Niall craved was attention. No, not attention. Affection. All he wanted was to be loved, to feel loved; but he knew no one would ever love him like that.  
So he held a bottle to his lips, and downed the drink that would make him forget it all.  
He was a prisoner in his own mind.


End file.
